


and it's there I read on a hillside gravestone, you will never leave harlan alive

by hobohairedbuckybear



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Justified, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: poor winona, the crossover no one asked for, timeline what timeline?, willa is as terrible as raylan and we all know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobohairedbuckybear/pseuds/hobohairedbuckybear
Summary: This is the MCU/ Justified crossover that no one asked for.  You're welcome. It is a one-shot for now. Maybe more oneshots later.The actual summary? Willa Givens comes home.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	and it's there I read on a hillside gravestone, you will never leave harlan alive

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, i have no idea what the timeline is. But S.H.I.E.L.D always comes back, just like Hydra so there's that. And you can bet that in this world, Agent Phil Coulson and Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens have shared a drink somewhere to commiserate over their shared bond of saving the world from evildoers. And there is not a chance in the world I'm not gonna have Willa Givens be just as badass and stubborn as her father. For better or for worse. 
> 
> I know Raylan moves off to Miami at the end of the series, but I'm giving him a front porch and some property somewhere where he's probably a pain in the ass Chief like Art. It's a crossover. I do what I want. No one proofread this and I haven't posted fic in eight hundred years. please don't judge me too harshly. 
> 
> Title from the song. If you've watched Justified, you know the one. Darrell Scott wrote it.

“Are you gonna tell me that I should see the other guy?” he asks, arms folded across his chest as she moves tenderly up the drive towards the porch; black duffle bag clenched in the hand not wrapped tightly in bandage. The car that drops her off drops it into reverse, flips around, and then heads back the way it came without any fanfare. It doesn't seem to bother her much, and he can't say it bothers him all that much either. It does give him pause, though. Willa scoffs obviously, pausing a long moment to tilt her head up at the sky in obvious contemplation once the car is far enough down the road for the whole world to settle back to something like quiet.

“You gonna tell mom?” she asks, when her gaze and her wandering mind come back to hover somewhere back in the same county with him. He almost lets himself snort aloud.

“Shady sedan drops you off looking like you found yourself on the wrong side of a bar fight or three, and _that’s_ what you’re worried about?”

It makes her smile, or at least something as close to one that he’s probably going to get. She makes the rest of the trip up the way until they’re wrapped in a long overdue hug. She tenses beneath his grasp and winces below her breath enough for him to notice, and he eases his grasp until she relaxes.

“You want to go inside?” he asks.

“No,” is the muffled response from against his chest.

"Alright. Fair enough."

He does not count the days between her visits the way he used to when she was a kid anymore. But he can approximate it anyways: _too long_. Winona thinks she works a desk job. That was the story the whole family had. And while Willa has never once confirmed or denied it otherwise to his face, Raylan Givens knows better. Winona probably does to, but it's probably easier for her to believe the lie than worry over the truth. He has had his run-ins with S.H.I.E.L.D before. He knows the kinds of things they do. And what they do not. No one working any kind of desk job crawled home to their US Marshal father looking like this. And as much as it kills him to see her like this; as much as his blood boils at the sight, she isn't a little kid anymore. And he's not the younger man who used to draw on the sorts she must be out facing for herself.

They wind up sitting on the porch steps instead – wind whistling through the trees, across the open field and up into the hills. Her duffle rests a few paces away. She picks at the bandage on her hands, eyes shifting between the well worn wood of the stairs, and out into the distance. And he could ask her a million questions. He could pester her into a confession the way he had any number of fugitives over the years. He could raise his brow in the way that used to make her burst into tears over something small and meaningless, admitting the truth through tears, when she’d been barely old enough to know the parts of the world he’d buried himself in for so long as a Marshal. He chooses not to, because he trusts her. More than he trusts himself. 

_“I’m really tired, Dad,”_ she finally admits quietly, head coming to rest against his shoulder. She doesn’t have to tell him that, but he's pleased she is willing to admit it out loud. Heaven knows he is thankful she didn't carry all of him in her bloodstream. And he'll take that admission as a small victory. It's enough of an entry into the world she is living in, and he’ll take it...for now. 

“You just rest your eyes, and I’ll keep watch. How’s that sound Agent Givens?” he asks, kissing the top of her head the way he had a million times before. There is something of a satisfied huff against him, as he adjusts his arm to wrap around her. He doesn’t know the Crowders or Bennetts she is fighting in her own life, but he knows her well enough that when she’s ready, she’ll tell him the truth. Until then, he’ll be satisfied with this; the hills and the sun and the only good thing he’s ever really made in this world trusting him over anyone else.


End file.
